God, That's Good!
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Mad Scientist Booker T strikes again. And some members of the Raw roster get a bit of a makeover.
1. In the beginning

Something Wicked This Way Comes

  
  
Warnings: You may wet yourself... I will not be held responsible! 

Disclaimer: I own only myself! The other non-wrestling type people who appear own themselves (or their parents own them). I have only borrowed their names and images and will give them back as soon as I'm done! Girl Scout's honor!   
  
**Prologue**

"The package is in transit." 

Outside a loading dock, wearing a white lab coat and plastic safety goggles, Booker T was talking on a cellular phone. 

_"And, just to refresh my memory, why has it been shipped out?"_

"Well," he started, shifting the goggles from his face to on top of his heads, "we needed proper test subjects. And no one around here would be willing to... participate." 

_"That would be because of your last experiment, wouldn't it?"_

Booker frowned. "It was in the name of science! How many times do I have say that?" 

_"Listen, you're preaching to the choir. If I had any problems with your... hobby... I would've shut you down a long time ago."_

Lost in the memory of his past triumph, he ignored the statement. "It was brilliant, Linda! No one else has been able to recreate that kind of success. No one." 

_"I know, Booker..."_

"And then they had to nerve to double-cross me and use my own invention against me." 

_"Calming breaths, Booker. Go to your happy place. Remember your happy place?"_

"How could they do that, Linda? I am a five-time World Champion! And they... they..." 

_"Spanked you. Yes. I remember it quite vividly."_

"But this plan... This plan is true brilliance. I'm not even gonna be there when the shit goes down. And my informant plans on giving me a full report of the experiment once it's been completed. And I don't have any of the formula left lying around so they can use it on me. I can't lose!" 

_"And you're sure it's non-toxic? I don't want them put out of commission."_

Booker smiled, madly, as required in the mad scientist bylaws. "Oh, they won't get sick off of it. But I'm not sure how inclined they'll be to be out in front of a crowd." 

_"In any event, I think you'd better send some damage control. The last thing we need are some amateurs mishandling the situation."_

"I'm on it. Give my love to the husband and kids." 

Full of life, vigor, and Y. J. Stinger, he ended the call and placed another one. It rang four times before the answering machine kicked in. 

_"Hello,"_ a male voice said,_ "you've reached Rogue's machine. She's not available right now. In all likely events, she's probably in the bathroom."_

A female voice responded,_ "Oy! No adlibbing! Read the lines as written!" _

"Right... Anyway, please leave a message after the beep... Chibi chibi, you wanna do the beep?" 

"Beep beeeep," a younger female voice started. _"Beep beep beeeeeeep." _

"No, Chibi chibi. Only one beep. One. Beep." 

The older female voice returned. _"Beep this, you wanker!" _The sounds of a scuffle could be heard. 

_"It's coming out of the socket!"_ the male voice yelled. 

The automatic beep came on and Booker left his message.


	2. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

**1.**

"You've got mail, Eugene." 

It was a dull Friday afternoon and William Regal, still keeping an eye on his former charge, hoped that a piece of what appeared to be fan mail would raise both of their spirits. He examined the box, a plain brown one wrapped in even plainer brown paper, before handing it over to it's recipient. 

"It must've come in some time this morning." 

Like a kid on Christmas morn, Eugene happily tore off its simple wrapping and opened the box. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he removed the contents. 

"A bottle of Sunny Delight?" he asked. He turned to William. "Do _you_ like Sunny Delight?" 

Frowning, he replied, "I can't say that I've ever tried it. But, considering it is an orange juice like substance, it can't be too bad." 

Gladdened by the idea of having someone to share this rather unusual gift with, he proceeded to open the bottle when he spied a piece of paper in the bottom of the box. 

"Wonder what this is for..." Putting off the grand opening for just a moment, he picked up the paper. "Directions, maybe?" 

"That is highly unlikely," William replied, as Eugene inspected it. "It's most likely a note from a sender expressing his or her appreciation for the entertainment you provide them every week." 

Putting the piece of paper in his pocket, he smiled at William. "We're gonna need some cups." 

"Two?" 

"No..." he paused. "More than two. Definitely more than two." 

Not wanting to point out the obvious, Regal hesitated. "You _do_ realize that there are only two of us, don't you?" 

Eugene nodded. "Of course, I do!" 

"Oh..." He still wasn't sure what this 'cup' discussion was all about. 

"We're gonna share it with our fellow Superstars. Kind of like a peace keeping mission." 

"You mean a temporary cease fire?" 

"Call it whatever you want. Just go get some cups. I'll call the people." 

"Right. Cups it is... Might want to get some riot gear as well." 

"And William," he started as the man as about to walk out the door, "if anyone offers you some, tell them you don't want it." 

"Because it's not for us, is it? I mean, we're peaceful as it is, aren't we?" 

Seriously, Eugene nodded. "Not. For. Us." Then his features softened and his kind-hearted look returned. 

Not wanting to know what had caused that momentary change in Eugene's demeanor, he quickly exited the room, searching for a bag of cups as if it were the Holy Grail. 

With William on his errand, Eugene carefully set the bottle down on the floor and slowly backed away from it. Assured that he had put enough distance between it and himself, he placed his calls. 

Standing on a chair, he began. "Ladies and gentleman..." 

"I'm sure he uses that term loosely," Chris Jericho mumbled, glancing at some of the people congregated around him. 

"I have brought you all together today on a mission of peace." 

Hunter snorted. "Mother Theresa, he is not." 

"We are all human beings." 

"The results have yet to come back for some people," Matt stated to no one in particular. But everyone inferred that he was referring to Kane. 

"I wouldn't start somethin' your punk ass can't finish," Kane replied, glaring menacingly. 

"Speaking of not being able to finish..." 

The only thing between an irate Kane and a rather smug Matt Hardy was Batista, William Regal, and a few molecules of air. 

Eugene blew an air raid horn, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "That's better. As I was saying..." Chewing his bottom lip, he turned to William. "What was I saying?" 

"The cease fire, son. And the peace offering." 

"Oh yeah! I suggest we have a temporary cease-fire, meaning no fighting, until Monday night. Then you can be at each other's throats again." 

Seeing that they were, generally, prepared to go along with this, he continued. 

"Now, I'll arrange you all and William will give you drinks so we can make a toast." Removing a piece of a paper from his pocket, he read from it. 

"Triple H and Chris Benoit, please stand next to each other. Randy Orton and Edge, do the same. Batista and Chris Jericho, Ric Flair and the Hurricane, Kane and Matt Hardy, and, lastly, Trish Stratus, Victoria, and Nidia." 

Reluctantly, they arranged themselves accordingly and took the paper cups that were given to them. 

"There is no way I'm drinking a toast with this dork," Flair shouted. He shoved the cup back into Regal's hand and stormed off. 

Lita, who had accompanied Matt, walked over and took the cup from the shocked man. "I guess I'll make a toast, too." 

"No!" Eugene shouted, jumping off his chair. He ran over to intercept her. "It's not good for your condition." 

"You mean there's alcohol in it?" Matt asked. 

Eugene paused. "It might not be good for the bun in the oven." Not a lie, he thought. Just not the whole truth. 

Edge sniffed his drink. "Well, it definitely smells like there's somethin' in it. Something more than orange juice, anyway." 

Eugene smiled. "Right!" An easy out, he thought. "Besides, now Uncle Eric and I can make a toast. For solidarity." He took the cup from Regal and got another from a nearby table. 

With everyone assembled, they lift their cups in a toast and drink. 

"Mmm," Randy said, licking his lips. "Sunny Delight." 

Having fulfilled their agreement, the group exited, going off to parts unknown, discarding their cups in the trash bin as they left. 

"I thought you said that it wasn't for us," William said, retrieving the now empty bottle from behind the table. Evidence, he thought. 

"It wasn't." He handed him the cup. "Now come on. We have to buy some name tags and markers before the stores close." 

William looked at the cup. It was bone dry. Watching the receding image of the seemingly innocent Eugene, he wondered what the nametags were for. 


End file.
